Jan eBook

Bill jarred down to earth, short of his mark, his
feet ill placed, his world awry. And in that
instant the big hound was upon him like a bolt from
heaven: the strangest attack surely that ever
dog faced, or so it must have seemed to stricken Bill,
the northland fighter for the killing throat-hold,
who never had seen the famous killing grip that was
always used by Jan’s tall sire, Finn the wolfhound.

Jan came down upon Bill as though from the clouds.
(He stood a full four inches higher than Bill.) His
huge jaws, stretched to cracking-point, took Bill
where the base of the skull meets the spinal cord.
One jaw on either side that rope of life, they drove
down; through the matted armor of Bill’s coat,
through skin and flesh, and on to their ultimate destination,
under the crushing pressure of a hundred and forty
pounds of steel-like muscle, bone, and sinew, the
invincible product of the trail-life developed upon
a foundation of scientifically attained health and
strength.

Bill, the fearless and unbeaten, now screamed aloud;
not for mercy, but in mortal pain. His tense
body squirmed, convulsed, under Jan’s great
weight like a thing galvanized by electricity.

Jan’s jaws sank deeper.

Bill snapped at the bloody snow in his frenzy, actually
breaking his own fangs.

Jan’s jaws sank deeper.

A long horrible shudder passed through the squirming
body of Bill. And Jan’s jaws sank a little
deeper. Then with a dreadful sucking sound and
a sharp gasp for breath, those jaws parted and were
withdrawn; for Bill’s long fight and his life
were ended now, and Jan was quite alone in that desolate
place.

XXX

REAL LEADERSHIP

The thrifty Jean was far from pleased when, on the
morning after his lucky moose-shot, he found that
the sled-team was short of one dog. As it happened,
Jake was the first to note the absence of Bill, the
ex-leader; and while he looked this way and that for
the missing dog, Jean, by a thought process which
went a little farther, called Jan to him and proceeded
to look over the big hound.

“You don’t need to look for no Beel,”
he said, grimly, to Jake. “Look thees Jan,
here. By gar! that was some fight, now I’m
telling you. See that, an’ thees.
Look that ear. See thees shoulder. By gar!
that Beel he fight good an’ hard. But when
he fight Jan, tha’s the feenish—­for
Beel.”

Jake and Jean together made the best job they could
of patching up Jan’s wounds a little against
the frost and the rub of trace and breast-band.

“Good dog, too, that blame Bill,” mused
Jake.

“Sure, he was good dog, very good dog; by gar!
yes,” agreed Jean. “But thees Jan,
hee’s best of all dogs. No good for Beel
to fight heem. Only he was too blame full o’
moose-meat, he don’ lose no blood to Beel, you
bet. That why Beel he don’ eat las’
night. Seeck? No. He too cunning, that
Beel.” A long pause, while Jean spat out
chewed tobacco and juice over one of Jan’s worst
wounds, with a view to its antiseptic and healing
properties. And then, on a grunting sigh:
“Ah, well, I reckon that makes Jan’s price
five hunderd. That blame Beel, he worth two hunderd
any day.”